What a lovely post. You set me thinking about my old parish. Dark, so dark, and smelling of floor wax and whispers all the time. I remember the Stations of the Cross was the most incredibly resonant experience there, especially when fired by childhood imagination.
What is the hold this thing has over me? I write about it all the time, claim to have consigned it to the past, and yet... and yet.
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Date: 2006-01-03 10:55 pm (UTC)What is the hold this thing has over me? I write about it all the time, claim to have consigned it to the past, and yet... and yet.
Thank you!